Ask Me Why(8)

I turn my attention to the one who deserves it. “You have very nice manners, little guy.”

“Thank you!” Pure sunshine beams off Ollie. He gives my mood an instant boost, unlike the grumbling grouch looming in front of me.

“Daddy?” Ollie tugs on Brance’s sleeve. “Can I go play?”

“Sure,” he answers without taking his eyes off me.

Ollie doesn’t recognize the suffocating tension in the room and runs off toward the toy aisle.

Brance calmly loosens the knot of his tie. He oozes confidence and swagger. I can tell this man is used to calling the shots. But this is my store.

“So, Braelyn,” he spits my name like a curse, “what sort of game are you playing?”

I twist my lips. “Um, not sure what you mean?”

“There’s no point trying to fuck with me. I know your type.”

I don’t bother asking why he has a massive chip on his shoulder. This guy is clearly pissed at the world, or me specifically. Even if I scrounge up a useful question, the chances of him answering honestly seem slim.

Might as well have a bit of fun.

“A small business owner trying to make a living?” I tack on a cheesy smile, just for kicks.

He makes a show of appraising my store with thinly veiled disgust. “What the fuck kind of name is Thicket?”

I keep my expression flat, refusing to give him a reaction. “It’s a place to get lost in. An escape from reality. Somewhere to be free.”

Brance clucks his tongue. “And you sell what exactly?”

“A little of everything. Odds, ends, and everything in between.”

“Sounds stupid.”

In this moment, I’m yanked from my grey bleakness. The numbness that’s been cloaking me for years falls to the floor. A fire burns in my belly and I glare at him. I take pride in being even tempered, but everyone has their limits. This guy is making me lose my cool. Quite literally.

“Care to rephrase that?” It takes every ounce of strength to force away the tremor from my voice.

“No,” Brance says simply.

He’s ridiculing my dream. My job. My livelihood. My blood, sweat, and tears. All with a nasty smirk on his handsome face. Warning bells clang loudly in my brain, but I don’t need them. Brance is the type of man I know damn well to stay far away from.

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

He nods in the direction Ollie went. “Kid wanted candy. He’s been blabbing about this place nonstop. Your luring tactics are successful.”

I point to the door. “You’re free to leave.”

“Kicking out a paying customer?”

“Ollie can stay. He knows how to treat people with respect, which is plenty more than I can say about his father. You can wait outside.” I massage my throbbing temples.

“I’d rather not.”

A scream brews in my chest, but I gulp it down. This man is pushing every button I have. I suck in a cleansing breath through flared nostrils. It barely takes the edge off.

“Do you have a problem with me?” I lift my arms, letting them fall to my sides.

“What gives you that idea?”

I gesture toward him. “Every condescending thing that’s come out of your mouth.”

“It’s best practice to be honest. I’m just speaking the truth.”

“And ripping me apart is a necessary evil?”

Brance’s eyes flash, filling with destruction, but the emotion is gone in an instant. A shallow flatness replaces it. I recognize the hollow gleam as my own. But that’s where our similarities end.

This man hides everything behind a fierce mask of indifference. He’s a shell wrapped in extremely handsome packaging. My pain is stark and on display for all to see. Sorrow leaks out of me on a constant basis. I prefer keeping to myself and avoiding confrontation. His presence takes up the entire store, and not in a good way. He’s dragging in a black cloud that almost makes me shudder. But I won’t let him cut me down. I take care of that on my own.

Our glaring match continues. He’s commanding and domineering, but I’m not shying away. What the hell is eating this guy? I’m too terrified of the answer to ask. Turning the tables feels like a safer choice. At least for now.

I lean against the counter, trying to appear relaxed and confident. “Has anyone ever called you rude?”

Brance snorts. “Constantly.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, sugar. I couldn’t care less what others think of me. My zero tolerance for most people certainly helps with that.”

I waver for a second but allow curiosity to reign. “And who, dare I ask, makes the top of your list?”

He rocks on the soles of his leather loafers. “In general? Bad drivers, liars, smokers, manipulative shop owners, spoiled women…”

I’m barely listening after he says the first one. His voice slaps my cheek, a lash I wasn’t expecting. I almost raise my hand to rub at the phantom sting. Static buzzes in my ears, and I lose focus.

I always complained about Devon’s driving. He was on the reckless side, speeding and taking risks. I used to beg him to slow down. He never did.

The sound of metal crudely bending screeches into my mind. Mangled visions smash into the walls of my weak mental state, demanding entry. I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught.